M
Mariposa
Guest
Original poster
This Wicked Waltz
in Collaboration with
Shinegizmo
@Adira
@Duchess of Adraelith
@Incandescent
@Polystical
Characters
Click image for character profiles.
The London Season begun with the customary return to Town at the end of the hunting season. Soon the lights on the windows of fashionable houses were lit, galas and dinner parties had been arranged, and invitations were sent, but whilst the ton expected one long party this Season, the effects of a distant volcano were about to make the summer of 1816: The Year Without A Summer --
The rain had calmed down to a steady drizzle, but the damp London streets were a depressing site for the Dowager Dutchess of St. Albans -- Harrio's cold blue eyes stared out the window of a four wheel Landau. It had been two years since she last visited London. After the death of her favorite son, Aurelius, an emptiness had settled in her heart, and it devoid her of any pleasure. She had abide an inactive social life, except for the occasional dinner guests in Bestwood, where she lived. It wasn't until Jarvis, the estate manager, had informed his grace of Richard's crippling gambling debts, that Harrio was forced to take it upon herself to put a stop to her other son's recklessness.
The luxurious carriage stopped once and turn left, steadily on Piccadilly toward St.James square. Two horses sufficed to pull the carriage, but for show additional front pair of high-stepping horses had been requested by the Dowager. Trafficking forward, the carriage finally stopped along St. James Square. The next turn was the grand manor of the Duke of St. Albans.
The tall gilded gates were wide open as the Landau crossed the face of the impressive property. The large town house was built in typical Palladian fashion, displaying wealth and thus impressively opulent over the smaller houses in the area. It had been the summer home for the Dowager before it became the permanent residence of the Duke of St. Albans, and in her possession the house had come to a series of alterations through the years -- a new portico had been constructed, allowing formal entrance to the ground floor, an opulent entrance hall and grand crystal staircase with glass handrail convey guests directly to the noble floor, additionally, a vast heavily gilded ballroom had been added, causing the house to become even more of a place for display and entertaining rather than for living. And the sumptuous exteriors housed a large part of the St. Albans art collection, considered one of the finest in the kingdom, and a renowned library, housed in a room of 40ft long, which the Dowager now considered a lost treasure kept in the hands of her son.
The entire house staff stood outside awaiting the Dowager's arrival. She recognized some familiar faces, and she felt a great sense of pride for them that, even in poor weather they stood outside to pay respects. They held more honor and duty than her own son, whom she noticed was absent.
Harrio stepped off the Landau, and under the cover of umbrellas was escorted inside the house. She was attended by O'Brien the butler; a tall man of strong chin and sturdy nose, and Mrs. Nugent the head housekeeper, a very stoic, ethical, and kind woman; both had been working at St. Albans' manor since their teenage years. And Harrio held great admiration for the two older staff persons. Standing nearby was a petite figure, a young fresh face, dressed as a lady's maid -- to whom Mrs. Nugent passed on the Dowager's coat, hat and gloves. From where they stood, Harrio could hear manly voices, though the conversation was undistinguished the tone carried a tinge of anger in its volume.
"Where is he?" asked Harrio, inquiring the whereabouts of her son, as she enter the drawing room. She was please to see most furnitures and familiar decor were as she had left them.
"His grace is in…" begun to state, O'Brien.
"Here, mother," Richard said, loudly enough to quiet O'Brien. "Leave us."
"Shall I bring tea?" O'Brien asked.
"That will be lovely. Thank you, O'Brien." Harrio said.
The Dowager sat on a single tall back chair - she was the very image of sophistication and opulence. The aspect of her face was softened with a friendly smile, but her eyes held to them a serious and intimidating posture, which was to a degree her grace's unrelenting charm. Richard bow respectfully, but showed no inclination of affection toward his mother, in fact he resented his mother's presence. Harrio noticed the cold reception and though she felt hurt by it she showed no emotion other than a smile. She was pleased to see her son, even if he was not happy to see her. She also noticed, Richard, was in a disagreeable mood.
"Did you have a pleasant journey?" Richard asked, politely. He stood by the window, looking out at the gardens -- even in a sunless day the house gardens were an impressive delightful sight.
"Dreadful. Nothing but rain and dampness."
"Yes, the weather has been disappointing as of late. You must be exhausted. I'll inform Mrs. Nugent to prepare your room. I have some matters to attend to. I shall return in time for supper." Richard bowed, to excuse himself, he couldn't wait to leave the room.
"Sit down, Richard." Harrio demanded. Her tone rising from pleasant to deadly serious. She felt insulted by Richard's lack of respect.
Richard stopped short and lower his head in shame. He recognized he overstepped boundaries, and before taking seat he apologetically said, "My apologies."
"We both know the reasons I am here, Richard," Harrio said. "I don't pretend you think of me as a parental figure. Nevertheless, you have been a great disappointment to me. You came into life with the best advantages and prodigious opportunities. Which unlike your brother you have wantonly squandered."
"Oh, God. I'm fed up with this sanctimonious nonsense." Richard stood up, his voice carried over. "I disappoint you, do I? Good. I am not my father. I'm not my brother, nor do I have any intention of being. So, as of today, I respectfully ask you give up trying."
"I will not stand by, while you fritter away your father's fortune, and mud his legacy and name." Harrio softened her tone, and tried to reason some sense of duty upon Richard. "Men get away with certain things in wartime, certain ways of living. But that's come to an end now, Richard. You have to let go of all that. You have to consider your future, your good name. It's time you stop running around with loose woman."
"Oh, please, not that again." Richard walked to the minibar and pour himself a double shot of whiskey.
"You must wed, Richard. Find a good woman of good stock, decent pedigree, of good form." Harrio insisted.
"I've already settled my affairs." Richard downed the whiskey in one gulp. "I'm no longer in debt, and I've no desired to take on a wife."
"Desire?" Harrio let out a big chuckled. "You've exhausted that option, my dear boy. How long before you gamble what little you have? How long before you sell more land to pay your debts?"
"Have your parties. Stay for as long as you want. But, do not expect anything more of me." Richard bowed and stormed out of the room.
Richard almost collided with O'Brien, who had been waiting outside the door with tray in hand. He didn't want to interrupt the heated conversation between mother and son. Finally he stepped inside and placed the tray down. The Dowager looked at the butler, her face concealed any hint of distress.
"O'Brien, you have impeccable timing." Harrio said. She took the tea from O'Brien's hand and pressed the warm cup to her lips.
"Will there be anything else, your grace?"
"Mmm, yes. Polish the silver and stemware, get out the good china, I am entertaining some friends."
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